Chapter 1
The hour before dusk is always the loudest.
Light stretches too far, shadows reach too long, and for a moment neither remembers which belongs to which. I have always preferred that kind of uncertainty, where light and darkness converge, where evil is disguised as purity. It feels honest. True.
A breeze whispers secrets between the fog-laden trees, threatening the fragile peace of Whisperfall Hollow. I pulled my velvet cloak tighter around my body, my dark waves spilling over my shoulder with the movement and exhaled a steady breath before averting my attention back to the book in my hands. The book that was more than just ink on paper. It was a memory, and one that didn't entirely belong to me. It was as though there was a residue of emotion on the pages, subtle voices in the swirling ink of the sigils, a familiar ache yearning to be remembered.
A faint breath of wind kissed my ear, too deliberate to be natural. My eyes snapped up and away from the book that was now tightly clutched in my hands as I assessed my surroundings. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Mourning willows stood in a tangled veil of shadow around me. Their long, skeletal branches encasing me from above with nothing but a sliver of moonlight to guide my eyes while I continued surveying the clearing. Whisperfall Hollow had always been a borderland, not just of trees and mist, but of worlds. The other villagers had claimed that the fog was alive, and perhaps they weren't wrong, but this was always the place I had wound up when I needed an escape, a moment to get away from myself.
The air thickened, pressing against my skin until every breath turned heavy. The breeze died mid-whisper and the willows stilled, their branches hanging low as if they were listening too. I slammed my book shut, my pulse quickening and I rushed to my feet, inspecting my surroundings more closely. Maybe it was simply a trick of the light, or maybe I had just been listening to too many rumours of the village. It was probably nothing, and yet I remained upright, placing my book on the ground.
Something in the fog refused to dissolve. The slight distortion of a shadow. My anticipation came before judgement and I moved, calling upon the darkness within me to open the veil and drag the figure back to the walking world. My breath caught in my throat as I noticed the thin and boneless illusion-like body. It did not sway as the wind picked up again, and instead, it leaned towards me. Its head was engulfed by black, hollow flames and even though I could barely make out any facial features, something stitched lay beneath the fire. Threads pulled taut across a mouth that had probably never known mercy.
Shadow-stalker.
I should have run, I wanted to run, my instincts screamed at me to escape, but my feet were planted to the ground. All I could do was will my unease to dissipate and put up my usual mask of dangerous elegance and composure, even as my throat tightened and my hands trembled slightly. Fear, Gods, what a funny thing to feel. It holds you in a cell of your own creation, dampening your soul until you become something unrecognisable. Such a funny feeling to be frightened of others when others are frightened of you.
"You have been called," it rasped, speaking with a voice of broken echoes, pulling me out of my thoughts. I took a small step back and exhaled through my nose to calm my racing pulse.
"By who?" I spat out, and the shadow-stalker bowed, not enough to induce more fear, but enough to unsettle me further.
"The King requests your presence within the citadel."
Despite the tension in my shoulders and fear running through my veins, I almost laughed.
"So, the King remembers I exist. He must be desperate." The king had not spoken my name since he cast me beyond the walls, and I was glad of it. But before I could protest, the shadow-stalker lunged towards me, swallowing everything in its path with a surge of shadows. First, the trees. Their silhouettes warped and vanished, leaving only a cracking of branches and an overwhelming feeling of panic around me. I began taking small steps backwards, but there was an insistence. Subtle at first, then sharper. The ground beneath me turned to shadows, rippling like black water at my feet, and I knew that I was in the veil between the walking world and the shadow world. My cloak whipped around me, and my hair was swept back from my face as the wind picked up, sending shadows spiralling upwards until I was engulfed in darkness.
The chill of Whisperfall Hollow had vanished.
